


Sentry

by beekeepercain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Family, Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2325059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Araqiel had stood upon that hill before, but it wasn’t the Garden he was there to look at. He had a reason and as far as he was concerned, he wouldn’t tell another of it.</i><br/><b>Prompt:</b> tell me about the looming, intimidating figure Gadreel would be, wings spread to block Edens gates and fists clenched around a sword, the tip lodged in the ground. he'd be stoic and unmoving, which makes him a bit of a joke to the fledglings, all of them daring the others to venture closer, giggling and whispering to "tug on his feathers! See if you can touch his sword!" Gadreel pretends not to see and bites the inside of his lip in order not to smile as they put tiny flowers in his wings UuU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sentry

**Author's Note:**

> I seriously didn't upload this? Seriously? This is probably my best oneshot, and I - I just decided to not bother with it? Wow, self. Good going with your AO3 upkeep.

* * *

 

Araqiel had stood upon that hill before. He had a reason; it wasn’t a good one, and as far as he was concerned, he wouldn’t tell another of it. The view reached just beyond the natural Wall of Eden, so that if he jumped high enough, spreading his still young wings to the wind, he could catch a glimpse of the Garden beyond. But it wasn’t the Garden he was there to look at: it was the sentry that stood guard each morning at this time in front of the passage carved to the mountainsides. The figure was unlike any angel he’d been guided by, dwarfing the grand seraphs he saw pass the corridors of the Grand Halls.

Gadreel was a hero of Heaven, that much showed. But unlike most of them, he preferred quiet servitude to showing off, and seemed to have a patience that never ended; the young angels had made a game out of it to try to get him to move, to at least lift his vision towards them, but he never did. His grace burned so brightly that Araqiel’s was nothing in comparison, and he was a guardian, a cherub, himself - younger by much, of course, but still the same rank. Gadreel was ancient, and it showed. His wings were like two walls at his side, a double shield that protected him from behind, and the blade he carried gathered light and energy from the Garden itself. It could have broken the mountain’s rock and left behind a smoldering cut, a wound to the fabric of Heaven itself, but of course, no one had ever seen him do anything more with it than hold it at his side. The archangels themselves respected him, and for a reason; none of them was allowed inside Eden. Gadreel walked through its secrets each day.

Nuriel, that damn idiot, had once made a dare to sneak up to the Gate after the sentry had passed. She’d made it far enough, and Araqiel had been that close to following, but then - and this was possibly the most exciting event that had come to pass during the whole existence of the young cherub - the sky had seemed to crack open with white fire, and the unranked trainee had found herself on her back from the dusty ground that spread around the Walls. Araqiel hadn’t heard what the sentry had spoken to her but he’d never seen a fledgling angel bow that deep while simultaneously making her way backwards away from anyone, and Nuriel had refused to speak a word of it afterwards.

Not that the Gate required Gadreel to stand there. No one else could open it. It was said that if Gadreel would die while defending the Garden, the Gate would be sealed, as no other grace could grant access through it. He was God’s most trusted - he alone held the key. And that was something Araqiel wondered often as he stood there, sweet-smelling wind from the lush green on the other side catching into his wings upon that hilltop: why did he stay so long to endure the small stones that rolled from whichever direction towards him to dig out a reaction that they never prompted, the snickers of the younglings, the fearful gazes of the shy ones who passed by thrice as if they had business around him but obviously had none. He could have spent his time further down that passage, invisible to all prying eyes, but rather stood where the rest of them could,  _with_  them, although he rarely spoke to any of them unless it was for the purpose of sending and receiving orders. Was it an order as well to always be visible, or did he share Araqiel’s interest in simply watching his own kind, connecting not by words but by experience instead?

At the very least, the grand figure wrapped in golden light gave those watching a reason to aim higher. Perhaps that way, some of them could once be more like him.


End file.
